


Of Silencios and Selfish Bastards

by Woldy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Loud Sex, Multi, Roommates, Sexual Tension, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 18:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1358221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woldy/pseuds/Woldy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is a free flat in Mayfair worth listening to your flatmates having sex  at 3am? Pansy decides that if you can't beat them, join them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Silencios and Selfish Bastards

**Author's Note:**

> Posted at Daily Deviant in January for the 2013 'group sex' prompt. started this for the ecouterism (arousal from hearing/listening to others engaged in sexual activities) theme back in 2012 but Pansy likes being the center of attention far too much to let the boys have fun without her.

[Read it at Daily Deviant](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/daily_deviant/579548.html) or...

  


There are questions nobody wants to consider at three in the morning, and amongst them is whether a free flat in Mayfair is worth listening to your flatmate having sex. The sounds are faint but unmistakeable: _uh, uh, uh, uh, uh_.

Pansy has considered this question before and her conclusion is always the same: of course it's worth it. The flat, after all, is fantastic: crystal chandeliers, marble kitchen tops, antique walnut tables, and decadently deep carpets. The linens are a thousand thread count, the plates are Wedgewood, the kitchenware is Le Creuset, there's an entire fridge filled with Bollinger, and the single malt is older than she is. Blaise's mother has built a life around luxury and, come to that, around fucking. If Blaise wasn't such an inconsiderate bastard then his mother's thick carpets and tasteful, noiseless beds would mean that Pansy _didn't have to hear this_.

Pansy rolls onto her side, pressing one ear firmly to the pillowcase, but it doesn't block out the sound: _uh, uh, uh_. She reaches for another pillow and squishes it over her top ear, but now she's heard the rhythm she can't un-hear it. Worse still, there's now another faint voice punctuating Blaise's grunts: oh, fuck, Blaise.

"I hate you!" Pansy shouts. She doubts Blaise will notice, and even if he notices he certainly won't stop, but it makes her feel a tiny bit better.

Tossing the pillows aside, she fumbles around for her wand and casts a silencing spell over her room. If the _Silencio_ doesn't wear off before her alarm then Pansy will be late for work in the morning, but compared to hearing Blaise's orgasm that's a risk worth taking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Pansy wakes up she's already an hour late for work. She dresses in a panic, scurries to the kitchen to grab an espresso and a croissant, then catches a sight of her reflection in a cupboard and runs back to her bedroom for a hairbrush, nearly colliding with Blaise on the way.

Blaise is naked except for a towel around his hips, and he's moving with the satisfied ease of the thoroughly well-fucked.

"You," Pansy accuses, "need to start casting silencing charms when you're shagging so that _I_ don't have to do it and end up being late for work."

Blaise shifts his weight and the towel slides lower, revealing a hipbone and another inch of perfect stomach.

"My house, my rules," he says.

"Your mother's house," Pansy snaps back.

"And she put me in charge of the rules," Blaise replies smoothly, and smirks at her. "Besides, she'd certainly approve of me fucking well-connected people."

"Who is this 'well-connected' person, then?"

"I thought you were late for work?"

Damn, she is late for work. Gossip will have to wait.

"One day," she says, narrowing her eyes at him, "you'll be sorry for ever disturbing my sleep. My sleep and Draco's sleep. We'll form an evil alliance against you."

Blaise's smirk widens. "Somehow, I'm not very afraid," he says, and saunters away down the hall, leaving damp footmarks on the polished floor.

"Vengeance!" Pansy calls after him. "I mean it!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three days later it happens again, and Pansy wakes from a pleasant dream to the telltale sound of Blaise grunting: _uh, uh, uh_.

It wouldn't be quite so irritating if she knew whom Blaise was fucking. There are some people Pansy would almost _like_ to hear have sex: Kingsley Shackelbolt, for one, because then she could sell her scandalous story about the Minister of Magic to the Daily Prophet. Oliver Wood, for another, because then she could sell her story to the Quidditch magazines. Even Gilderoy Lockhart, on whom Pansy has harbored a shameful and embarrassing crush since she was eight. Blaise's refusal to tell her is just adding insult to injury.

The grunting is getting louder and faster, like two tennis players fighting it out on the centre court of Wimbledon. She half expects to hear the umpire call "fifteen -- love". Surely Draco can't be sleeping through this? And if he is, she'd like to know the secret of how he does it.

Pansy rolls over, gets tangled in her duvet, untangles herself, and finally manages to grab her wand. What to do? She can cast a Silencio and be late for work again, or she can go up there and tell Blaise to be quiet. Picking a fight with Blaise mid-coitus would mean moving out, so... she's not going to do that. She frowns, thinking hard, and then seizes upon a third option: she can go to Draco for backup. Blaise might throw out one of them, but he's not self-sufficient enough to manage without them both. If she can get Draco on board then she's on to a winner -- game, set, and match.

She clambers out of bed, pulls a satin robe around herself, and throws open her bedroom door before she has time to change her mind. Draco's bedroom is only a few feet away, on the far side of their shared bathroom, but the sound of Blaise's grunting is even more pronounced here. Surely he can't be asleep?

"Draco!" she calls out, rapping on the door. There's no reply. "Draco?" Pansy says louder, knocking again, and then waits, counting under her breath.

By the count of twenty there is still no answer. Either Draco has cast a silencing charm, or he's got some kind of obscure spell for blocking only unwanted noises. Given the range of spells Draco has acquired from his family and Professor Snape, Pansy's betting on the latter.

_"Finite incantatem!"_ She knocks again, loudly, but there is still no reply.

"Oh, for god's sakes," Pansy mutters, and twists the doorhandle. She pushes the door open a few inches, mouth open to begin her explanation, and then stops dead.

Draco's bed is empty. Either he's gone out in the middle of the night without telling her, or... No, they can't be. Surely she'd know if they were fucking, surely it would have been obvious at school if they fancied each other, surely they would have told her if there was something...

Yet, it makes sense.

The reason Draco isn't awake and furious about all the noise is because he's next door, making the noise. Draco and Blaise are fucking. By the sound of it, _one of them is fucking the other through the mattress._

Pansy stands there, mouth open, as the _uh, uh_ sounds get louder and faster to the accompaniment of a soft creaking from the bed. Before she gathers her wits enough to leave, there's a sudden ejaculation of "fuck, yes, yes!" about an octave higher than Blaise's voice.

Blushing as scarlett as Madame Zabini's reputation, Pansy flees back to her bedroom. It's not until she's on the verge of drifting asleep that she realises she forgot to close Draco's bedroom door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next morning, Pansy is grateful to find them both still asleep. She grabs her coffee, two chocolate croissants -- she needs chocolate to deal with the shock -- and slips on her most comfortable heels. Today, she needs time and space to think.

Pansy munches the croissant as she walks past Berkeley Square, passing the Muggles on their way to work. Usually the walk is an excuse to window-shop the luxury brands on New Bond Street, but today MiuMiu and Louis Vuitton hold no appeal. The same question goes round and round her head: _how dare they not tell her?_

This isn't just something that Draco and Blaise failed to mention, because she asked Blaise who he was fucking only the other day, and he refused to answer. It's not simply a lie of omission, it's a deliberate deception. If her two best friends are fucking and hiding it from her then, frankly, it's hard to know where that leaves the friendship.

"Bastards!" Pansy says, around a mouthful of buttery pastry, startling a Muggle in a navy suit, who shoots her a nervous look and crosses the road.

She can't just ignore this, she has to do _something_. The question is what.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"As I see it, you've got three choices," says Millicent, leaning back in her plush leather chair.

They are in the smallest room of the Morganaeum on Piccadilly, which is Pansy's second favorite place in London for a private chat, and her top choice on days when she's avoiding Blaise and Draco. The room is silent except for the faint murmur from the dining room below, and Pansy resists the urge to fidget by drumming her nails against her wineglass.

"Which are?"

"Well, you could move out," Millicent says, in the same logical, unhurried tone. "On a Gringotts salary, it's not as though you can't afford your own place."

"I can't afford my own luxury flat in Mayfair," Pansy says pointedly.

"So live somewhere cheaper."

Pansy shudders. After living at Blaise's, how is anyone supposed to adjust back to life without antique furniture and a kitchen stocked from Harrods Food Hall? "That's the emergency back up plan."

"Or if you don't want to move out," Millicent continues, as if Pansy hasn't spoken, "find a way to break them up."

"Don't be an _idiot_ , Mill. You must remember how impossible Draco is after breaking up with someone? It was like having a Dementor in the Common Room. I'd rather move out."

Millicent frowns, swishing her wine around in the glass. She takes an absurdly long time about drinking a mouthful, puts the glass down again, and then meets Pansy's eyes.

"Well, if you can't beat them, join them."

It takes several seconds for the words to sink in.

"Join them? You mean _fuck them_?"

"Why not?" Millicent asks calmly. "You've fucked them both before."

"That's ridiculous," Pansy retorts, and Millicent raises an eyebrow. "You know that doesn't count. I was sixteen when I fucked Draco. Blaise and I were so drunk that night we could barely Floo."

"So?"

"So, it's not... You know we're not like that."

"A week ago you didn't think Draco and Blaise were like that," Millicent points out. "But it seems they are."

"Blaise is gay!"

"Draco isn't. Besides, Blaise fucked you, so I'd put that down as _mostly gay_. Perhaps there's some room for negotiation."

"Don't be so fucking reasonable about this," Pansy complains, and Millicent's lips curl in amusement. "This is my crisis! You're supposed to be sympathetic."

"If you wanted sympathy you should have asked a Hufflepuff," says Millicent, reaching for the bottle of wine and upending the remainder into her glass. "I'm being strategic."

They stay for another bottle, but at the end of it Pansy still doesn't have a clear answer. She bids Millicent goodbye, walks carefully to the Floo, and nearly falls over when she lands in the flat.

"Are you drunk, Pans?"

Too late, Pansy sees Draco lounging on the sofa. He's barefoot, wearing a pale shirt and jeans low on his hips that reveal a slice of pale skin.

"I'm fine," Pansy says, gathering her dignity, and toes off her heels. She picks them up and makes for the door.

"I wanted to--"

At that, Pansy runs and doesn't stop until the door of her bedroom slams shut behind her. Not exactly dignified, but better than having this conversation on their terms while she's drunk. Millicent is right: she has to be strategic.

For once, she sleeps like a baby.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh_.

Pansy wakes with a start and takes a moment to process things.

It's been nearly a week since she heard Draco and Blaise fucking, and Pansy has been avoiding them the whole time. She'd almost started to think that the avoidance strategy was working and that they'd stopped doing this. But, no, they're obviously still fucking and they _still_ aren't using a Silencing Charm. They're practically asking for a confrontation.

Pansy gets out of bed, and decides against putting on her robe. She flings open the bedroom door and walks briskly along the corridor, the deep carpet muffling her tread. Outside Blaise's door the sounds are unmistakeable: rhythmic grunting, heavy breathing, and mild squeaks from the bed as if it's almost too well-bred to protest.

She steels herself, and opens the door.

Blaise and Draco are in flagrante delicto on the bed. As she strides into the room, they freeze.

Pansy has put a lot of thought into what to say next. Should she demand an explanation for the deceit, or breeze over that minor betrayal? Is her best tactic to play it cool, outraged, or seductive? In the moment, all that planning goes out of her mind.

"If you were going to fuck this loudly you might at least have invited me to join you," Pansy complains, walking into the center of the room.

Barely two feet away, Draco is sprawled on his back, legs vertical in the air, with Blaise kneeling over him. Blaise's dark skin glistens in the candlelight, and their breathing is very loud in the sudden quiet.

"We didn't --" Draco begins. "I mean, we weren't..." He trails off as his eyes travel down over her body.

"If I'd known my nipples rendered you speechless then I'd have stopped wearing a bra," she says, and Draco flushes, pulling his eyes back up. "Isn't it an insult to Blaise to stare my my tits while his cock is inside you? But you've always been greedy, haven't you, Draco?"

Draco's cheeks go even pinker and he looks away. If Blaise's cock wasn't pinning him in place, Pansy's sure he would shuffle under the sheets.

"Is there a reason for this interruption, Pansy?" drawls Blaise, elegant as ever despite being completely naked and balls deep in Draco's arse.

"I might ask you the same question," Pansy fires back. "You're too smart to forget a Silencing Charm this often, which can only mean that you wanted me to hear."

Blaise arches a perfect eyebrow, as if daring her to continue.

"You wanted me to listen to you fuck," says Pansy, moving a step closer to the bed. "One could be forgiven for thinking you were inviting an interruption." Both men's eyes are fixed on her as she takes another step, the air between them so tense that it almost crackles. "If I'm wrong, just say the word."

For a long, horrible moment neither of them speaks and Pansy thinks she's made a fool of herself. Then Blaise looks at Draco, and something unidentifiable passes between them.

Draco raises his hand, reaching for hers, and Pansy takes it. The final step to the bed feels much further, but he tugs her forward.

"You're over-dressed, Pans," Draco says huskily, hand sliding to her waist. His fingers hook under her silk camisole, sliding it upwards to reveal her stomach.

Pansy releases his hand to lift the camisole over her head, and perches on the bed beside them. Despite all the planning that went into this, she's not quite sure what to do. Tentatively, she runs her hand over the damp skin of Draco's chest, which quivers slightly at her touch.

"I hope you don't mind if I finish fucking Draco?"

It takes Pansy a few seconds to summon words and a semblance of composure. "His cock looks rather neglected," she drawls back. "I hope you won't mind if I remedy that?"

"Not at all," Blaise says, sounding like the cat that got the cream. Pansy shifts further onto the bed, finding a secure stance as she leans down to press a kiss to the base of his cock.

At first it's awkward and nerve-wracking. Both of them are watching as she wets her lips nervously, and then licks a line up Draco's cock. The musky taste spreads across her tongue as she takes the head of his cock into her mouth, and Draco's hips rise to meet her.

Pansy tongues the head, feeling the shape and weight of him, and then nearly chokes when his cock hits the back of her throat. It takes her several seconds to realize that Blaise is moving again, and that his thrusts push Draco deeper into her mouth. It's an odd sensation, but after a few clumsy bobs of her head Pansy relaxes into the rhythm.

Blaise has set a slow, almost languorous pace. When Pansy looks up at him, past Draco's outstretched, trembling legs, she sees that Blaise's eyes are heavy-lidded. He looks impossibly beautiful and composed, like some ebony statue from his mother's art collection. It's intimidating, but undeniably sexy.

Every time Blaise thrusts, Draco rocks towards her and his cock slides deeper in her mouth. When Blaise withdraws Draco shifts away again, and Pansy sucks a little harder as his cock slides out. It's rather satisfying to have Draco caught between them like this, exposed and needy. When Pansy curls her tongue around the head of his cock, he whines.

Pansy slants another glance at Blaise, and this time he meets her eyes. His gaze is steady, almost too neutral, but a moment later a warm hand land on her ankle. Her heart skitters.

The next moment, Blaise changes pace, and Pansy hears the familiar noise that kept her awake at nights: "Uh, uh, uh." The bass sound punctuates every thrust.

Suddenly there's an urgency to the way Draco arcs and shudders beneath her, his skin growing ever more flushed. Pre-come leaks from his cock as it fills her mouth over and over, pushing deep, and Pansy has to focus on breathing. Even Blaise is starting to look decomposed with sweat trickling down his chest, and his fingers tighten on Pansy's ankle.

Pansy has never fantasized about fucking Blaise, but it's impossible not to think of it now that his movements are rippling through Draco's body to meet her. Each time Blaise pumps his hips, a cock slides into her mouth. It's not Blaise's cock on her lips, hard against her tongue, but it might as well be. She's not just sucking Draco, she's fucking them both.

"Yes, fuck, yes," Draco chants as Blaise pounds into him, and Pansy barely has time to register the way his cock pulses against her tongue before come is spurting down her throat.

Everything stills, and for a second the only sound is panting breaths and the rush of blood in Pansy's ears.

"No stamina at all," drawls Blaise.

"Fuck off," Draco mutters, wriggling his legs.

Pansy wipes her mouth and sits up, giving them space while Blaise pulls out. Draco stretches, long and lean, and then flops down beside her.

"You've got another play partner now, Blaise," he says.

Blaise narrows his eyes, considering, and then looks at Pansy.

Pansy stifles her first response: _I thought you didn't do women_. "I can lend a hand if you need one, darling," she says, not moving.

For a moment they watch each other, and then Blaise sighs and moves towards her. _Gotcha_.

"Since you're the expert on cock," she drawls, wrapping her fingers around the base of his own, "Let me know if I'm doing it right."

Blaise opens his mouth to say something bitchy, but Pansy tightens her grip, twists, and what comes out is a groan.

His cock is long and thick, still slick with lube. Pansy watches Blaise's face, judging pace and pressure by the shape of his mouth and the flutter of his dark eyelashes. When she strokes his balls with her other hand they jerk and tighten in her palm, and Blaise bites his lip. Pansy squeezes, and strokes him faster.

Blaise is silent and still fighting for composure when he comes, as though she's coaxing an orgasm from him despite his better judgement. Thick spurts of semen spill across her hand, the expensive linen sheets, and the pale arch of Draco's foot.

"Honestly," Draco grumbles, and the mattress shifts as he lunges for his wand. " _Evanesco_ " He flicks the wand again in Pansy's direction, saving her the need to wipe her hand.

"Mmmm," purrs Blaise, stretching out on the bed with the ease of a reclining Venus.

"He'll be asleep in seconds," Draco tells her. "No stamina at all." His voice is even, but Pansy can read the uncertainty in the pin-scratch between his eyes.

"If neither of you have any stamina then it's a wonder that you've been keeping me awake every night," she says, smoothing her hair and raising her chin. "A girl needs her beauty sleep."

For an instant, Draco's frown deepens.

"I can see that I'll have to take you both _in hand_ on a more regular basis," Pansy announces, and watches as the frown is replaced with a flush.

With care, she extricates herself from the bed and retrieves her camisole from the floor.

"Sleep well boys," she says, turning on her heel, "I certainly intend to."

Pansy doesn't need magic to know that they're both watching her as she walks away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sky is a bright, almost miraculous blue when Pansy's alarm goes off. The flat is silent. Blaise's door is still wide open, and when Pansy peeks inside she finds them sprawled in the contented sleep of the well-fucked. The room stinks of sex.

For the first time in weeks, Pansy makes an effort to be quiet as she moves around the flat. Blaise's expensive espresso tastes as good as ever, and her appreciation of the smooth crema is only slightly marred by the stiffness of her jaw. The croissant melts away on her tongue into a rich haze of butter and chocolate.

As Pansy walks to work along New Bond Street she ignores the shopfronts full of silk and diamonds. Today, her thoughts are on tonight and her plans for Draco's cock and Blaise's irritating composure. Three bodies provide so many options, and there are a lot of things she wants to try. She'll be damned if they're ever going to leave her out again.


End file.
